


The Nightmare Begins

by icewhisper



Series: Fake Maes AU [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, M/M, Maes Hughes Lives, Maes Hughes Needs A Hug, Multi, no actual romance in this installment but the series as a whole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22678075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icewhisper/pseuds/icewhisper
Summary: He couldn't go home. He wanted to rush back, bundle the girls up, and send them outside the perimeter of the circle, but he couldn't. Not yet. Not when he felt like eyes were still on him. He couldn't bring that danger home. He had to keep them safe.When Wrath decided the Elrics were getting too close, Envy got a new assignment and Maes went to work that morning, but it wasn't him that came home.
Relationships: Envy & Maes Hughes, Gracia Hughes/Maes Hughes, Gracia Hughes/Maes Hughes/Roy Mustang, Maes Hughes/Roy Mustang
Series: Fake Maes AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625317
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	The Nightmare Begins

It wasn't happening. This wasn't happening.

It was.

The truth was laid out in front of him in paper and ink that should have been blood. War. Death. The _stone_ . He stared at the map in horror as things clicked into place. Stared at the map and the lines that connected into a goddamn _transmutation circle_. He'd never learned the art – never had the patience to bother – but he'd known Roy long enough to know what they looked like.

Remembered nights spent at Roy's apartment after Ishval, too scared to sleep as he stared down the books Roy should have never even _touched_. Those books had been the thing of nightmares, worst case scenarios and thinking about standing at his best friend's grave.

Too many nights spent staring at circles that made his skin crawl and, now, he was staring at one again.

And, this time, it was stretched across the whole country.

He was going to be sick.

He had to tell Roy about this. If this circle extended so far, every conflict and war that had cropped up was _planned_ . If it was planned, it went to the top. The senior staff. The _Fuhrer_? It couldn't include him, he thought, hysterical for a moment, but it had to, right? Bradley was the one who had issued the Ishvalan extermination order. He was the one who deployed the soldiers to the conflicts that always ended too bloody.

But, no. _No_ . The man had a family. He had a wife and son. There was no way he'd do this, no way he'd put them at this kind of risk. He'd be _killing them_. There was no way. It had to be the senior staff or someone else.

God, they were all in the middle of this circle.

His _family_ was in the middle of this circle.

He crumpled the map into a ball between his hands and brought his lighter to the edge of it before he dropped it into the bin. He wouldn't forget it.

Phone to his ear and waiting for a private line to connect him to Roy, he changed his mind. Not here. Not secure. Someone could hear him.

He looked over his shoulder as he walked past the dispatcher's desk again, sure there was someone watching him – sure he'd seen someone in his periphery – but the hall behind him was empty.

He walked faster.

Out of the building.

Out of the boundaries of Central Command. 

He wanted to run, wanted to break out into a mad dash and get _somewhere_. He had to pass this information off to Roy. Roy who was aiming to replace the man who may have been in the center of all this.

He couldn't go home. He wanted to rush back, bundle the girls up, and send them outside the perimeter of the circle, but he couldn't. Not yet. Not when he felt like eyes were still on him. He couldn't bring that danger home. He had to keep them safe.

The phone booth felt like a godsend when he saw it, heart pounding in his throat, and he _knew_ the dispatcher on the other end was a sweet girl, that she was just following protocol, but he didn't have time for this. He fumbled with his notebook, cursing that he'd never quite remembered his security code like Roy had been telling him to, and waited.

Froze when he heard steps behind him slow and come to a stop.

He turned slowly and stared at the woman. At the tattoo on her chest. 

"Hello, Lieutenant Colonel," she said, voice low. "It's nice to meet you."

He lowered the phone slowly – Roy, where were you? – and let it hang from its cord. "Can't say the same," he said plainly. "I take it you're my shadow?"

"Of sorts. We had assumed Colonel Mustang would be the more troublesome one after the Elrics."

He went stiff. Did that mean they were watching Roy too? Because he was Ed's CO? Because of his aim to replace Bradley? "I aim to surprise," he said glibly and, with reflexes he'd honed over the years, grabbed the knife he kept at the small of his back. Threw.

She didn't fall.

There was a knife sticking out of her forehead and she didn't fall.

Horror washed over him – she's not human, she can't be human – and he reached for the next knife when her nails pierced through his shoulder.

The shock was the only thing that kept him from screaming, wide eyes caught on the nails – nails and fucking _glove_ – that had gone through skin and muscle. That tore right back out and retracted. That time, he grunted, body falling back against the phone as the hanging receiver bumped against his leg.

Why the hell hadn't Roy picked up yet?

A gun cocked and his eyes darted towards it, relieved and worried all at once. Blue uniform. Short hair. 2nd Lieutenant Ross. He opened his mouth to address her – order her or warn her, he wasn't even sure yet – when she stepped into the light a little more. Something… It wasn't right. Her uniform was fine, he thought as he pressed a hand to his bleeding shoulder, but something was still…

"Is everything alright, sir?"

He gave the silent receiver a mournful glance as he stepped out of the phone booth. He didn't think he'd be getting the information to Roy, after all. Roy would figure it out eventually, he assured himself, even without his voice in Roy's ear.

His hand fell from his shoulder, fingers slick with blood, and let a new knife slip down his sleeve. "Not especially," he replied. "I seem to have some holes in my shoulder and _you_ aren't 2nd Lieutenant Ross."

The imposter who had been holding their gun on the woman – she looked _amused_ – pivoted towards him instead, smiling too wide for Ross' face. "What gave it away?" they asked, still grinning that too-wide smile.

"She has a mole under her left eye." He tightened his grip around the handle of the knife. Not his dominant hand, but he'd trained with both in case this ever happened. He wished he could thank Roy for it, all those months of dragging him along to the training grounds so he could practice snapping with either hand; right for power, left for precision. Roy's paranoia had paid off, he thought, and hoped the knife did more damage to this imposter than it had to the woman who was still just _standing there_.

"You're observant," the imposter said, voice suddenly changing from its imitation of Ross to what he thought must be their real voice. "I can't believe I forgot." They tapped their cheek with two fingers, red light crackling against skin before the mole just...appeared. "There. How do I look now?"

He stepped back – _stupid_ , don't show them weakness – and if it weren't for the blood stains on her forehead to show where the woman had pulled the knife from her skull, he'd think he'd lost his mind. He'd think he was hallucinating, because none of this was _possible_ , but the hole on her head was gone and the other one had just made a mole appear with something that definitely wasn't alchemy. "What are you?"

"You really are a smart man, Lieutenant Colonel," they went on as if he hadn't spoken. "Did you ever think it would get you into trouble?"

"Part of the job," he said simply as he glanced back towards the phone. Still no Roy. How slow was that dispatcher? "I have trouble keeping my nose out of places it doesn't belong."

He snapped his head back, arm raised to throw the knife.

And stopped.

Gracia stared back at him, gun still pointed at his chest with a little smile that was almost familiar before it split back into that too-wide one Ross had had. "You look surprised," they gloated.

It wasn't possible. There was no way this was Gracia. He _knew_ this wasn't Gracia, but he couldn't make his arm move to release the knife. He couldn't…

"Envy, do hurry up," the woman sighed, irritated. "He's bleeding everywhere."

"You heard her," the _thing_ with his wife's face said and they moved too fast – too fast when he was still frozen – and slammed the butt of the gun into his head.

* * *

“It would have been fun to shoot him,” Envy said, a little regretful as they stared down at the crumpled form in front of them. He was still bleeding from his shoulder.

“Wrath wants him alive,” Lust reminded them, though, she didn’t sound like she cared much either way. “Getting in with Mustang’s team is too much of a risk, but Hughes is on the periphery enough that they won’t suspect a mole.”

They knew. They _knew_ , okay? They may not have listened to Wrath’s whole explanation about why he wanted Hughes alive – blah, blah, they’re getting too close, blah, blah, need someone on the inside, blah, blah, blah – but they’d gotten the gist of it.

“Besides,” Lust added, flipping the human’s knife between her fingers, “the point is that no one knows he’s gone. People would investigate a gunshot.”

“They’re gonna investigate the blood,” Envy pointed out. “Why did you get to stab him, but I couldn’t even shoot him a little?”

Lust’s fingers twitched like she wanted to stab _them_ with her nails, but she didn’t. A voice picked up on the still-hanging phone and they shared a glance. Mustang.

The image of Hughes’ wife disappeared in a crackle of red, traded out for Hughes himself, and Envy stepped over the unconscious figure to grab the receiver.

“-don’t have time for daughter stories,” Mustang said. Envy had to fight not to roll their eyes.

“That’s not why I’m calling this time,” Envy said in Hughes’ voice, making sure to add in that nails-on-a-chalkboard tone of doting father. Horrible. “When are you transferring to Central again?”

Mustang sighed. “I should be there by the end of this week, maybe next week if wrapping things up here takes longer than expected.” There was a shuffle and another voice too far away to catch properly, but Mustang must have put his hand over the mouthpiece to cover his reply. “I’ll bring Elicia’s birthday present with me when I see you. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to make it over to the apartment. You know how crazy transfers are.”

They hummed noncommittally and tried to make it sound sympathetic. Was pretty sure they failed, if Lust’s look was anything to go by. “I’ll see you when you get here, then.”

“Yeah. And if you stop calling me, I might actually get down there on time,” Mustang said, sounding a little amused, if a little irritated as well. He hung up without another word.

Envy returned the receiver to the cradle and kicked the body at their feet as they stepped over him. “Are you sure I can’t shoot him?”

“Go,” Lust told them. “Get him back and locked up before he wakes up. I’ll clean up the mess. Then, you should make sure the Lieutenant Colonel heads home. I’m sure his wife and daughter must be worried.”

Envy grinned and bent down to pick up the photo Hughes must have dropped. A happy, smiling family. Disgusting. They shoved the photo into the bloody part of the man’s jacket. He could keep it, blood-stained and all.

Might be a nice reminder to behave.

If he didn’t, Gluttony could eat him.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I accept full responsibility for this AU and I'm not even sorry.


End file.
